Letters from the Dead
by BeautifulDisaster0831
Summary: 'I need to send a message to my boys,' John Winchester had said. Minutes later, Metatron's spell kicked in, sending her and every other angel in Heaven to Earth - where the youngest angel in heaven learns why the Winchesters aren't to be trusted the hard way.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This story has been on my mind for weeks before I finally got it out. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (please drop me a review if you have any constructive criticism or other comments).**_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters from the show. The plot, however, is wholly mine (together with my OC).**

Chapter 1: Of Dangerous Deliveries and Dilemmas

She could feel the grief and pain of Ethan Miller even before she entered the house. Elise was right – her husband was self-destructing without her. Anessa glanced down at Elise's letter, then at the overflowing mailbox. Ethan was definitely not going  
to read anything in it for the foreseeable future. So simply leaving the letter in there was off the table. With a sigh, she flew into the house – reappearing to the human eye in the master bedroom shared by Ethan and Elise.

It was littered with memories, either captured in photographs or video, Ethan thrashing at the heart of the mess in the throes of a vicious nightmare on Elise's side of the bed. She was by his side before he could spring awake, sending him into a dreamless  
sleep with her grace. The moment his breathing evened out, she was on her feet again, deft fingers releasing Elise's diary from its prison beneath the false bottom of her drawer. This she slipped into Ethan's limp hand, the letter tucked safely inside.  
She took her leave quickly, praying that her errand remained undiscovered.

Thankfully, Josiah barely looked her way when she passed him. Air left her lungs in a long hiss once she was sure he was out of earshot. Her absence had failed to arouse any suspicion. For now, she did not need to fear the possibility of being strapped  
to Heaven's torture-table. With a skip in her step, she ducked into the Winchesters' Heaven. She had a promise to keep, after all.

Mary Winchester's smile greeted her on her way to the dining area, obviously pleased that she had decided to show up. On the other hand, her husband did not bother to acknowledge her presence when she slid into the seat besidehis. John Winchester  
was an intimidating man, even with his nose buried in a newspaper. She glued her eyes to the tablecloth, trying to ignore his blatant animosity towards her. After all, her brothers _did_ send his sons to hell and back. Literally.

'How was Earth?'

The question jolted her out of her thoughts. 'What?' She answered lamely, slowly lifting her head.

'Ellen told me you were headed down there,' he continued calmly, folding his newspaper.

'Loud,' she replied distractedly, still unable to believe that he was actually talking to her.

John captured her gaze with his. 'How's Ethan Miller holding up? Heard his wife just passed.'

She tensed, icy fear trickling over her. He couldn't possibly know.

'Not well,' she answered carefully, 'H-He's devastated.'

'Bet you that letter you gave him would cheer him right up.'

She ripped her gaze away from his, right hand capturing her left in a white-knuckled grip, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't play dumb with me, kid,' John looked like the cat that ate the canary, flashing her a dimpled smile. 'I know exactly what you did.'

All colour drained from her face as she scrambled to her feet. This was a trap and, like a fool, she had walked right into it. She had minutes, maybe seconds, before Josiah and the others came storming in. She turned to leave, only for a strong hand to  
clamp tightly around her wrist. She whirled around, her blue eyes clashing with the intense browns of John Winchester.

'Sit down, 'he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. 'I'm not going to turn you in.'

She searched his face for a full minute for any form of deception. Finding none, she did as she was told, eyeing him warily. The Winchesters were not known for their unconditional mercy.

'Listen carefully, sweetheart,' John spoke gently but firmly, 'I don't trust your kind as far as I can throw 'em but I need to get a message to my boys while it's still quiet. '

She pressed her lips into a thin line, the agonizing fear of discovery fresh in her mind. She was not interested in repeating the experience. For goodness' sake, she was not suicidal! Months of meticulous planning for each and every delivery was useless  
in the glare of John Winchester's detective skills. It would not be long for the others to figure it out. She would be imprisoned – tortured for every remaining day of her life – and if she escaped, her life would be Castiel's. The life of a Fallen,  
an outcast forever. Her eyes hardened. This was not worth risking her life again. She opened her mouth to decline, only for her decisive 'no' to die on her tongue at the sight of Mary.

Hope and desperation rolled off her in waves as she set the freshly-cooked chicken on the table, expression betraying no hint of emotion. Slowly, she drew a pair of manila envelopes from the pocket of her apron, purposefully laying them before her.

'I need to give my boys a proper goodbye,' Mary stated simply,' They've been through so much with so little and they deserve a chance to hear from their mother one last time.'

Anessa gnawed on her bottom lip, staring up at the expectant couple. In that moment, she knew. She did not have the heart to extinguish the spark in their eyes. 'I'll do it,' she relented, sealing her own fate.

She picked the letters up determinedly. These were going to reach Sam and Dean Winchester – by hook or by crook. She had made her bed – it was now time to lie in it. The smile on Mary's face was practically glowing as she wrapped her arms around her,  
pressing a kiss to her hair. 'Thank you. Now, we eat.'

But they never did.

Something tore her away from them – throwing her out of Heaven's gates. The next thing she knew, she was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: I'm back! Happy 2018 guys and girls!So sorry for the incredibly long wait! I really hope that this chapter makes up for it! Thanks to Celtic Knot and Angelus320 for reviewing and to everyone who followed/favourited my story!**_

2\. It Begins

The world was treated to a spectacular sight that night, when the sky lit up with streaks of brilliant light, drawing humans to their windows like moths to a flame. They would remember this with a smile as an unpredicted meteor shower. Little did they  
know it was one of the greatest tragedies in angelic history and the start of a heavenly civil war - with Earth as the battleground.

Everything rushed by in a whirl of colour, the wind whipping across her face. She, together with every other angel, was left at the mercy of gravity. Pure terror flooded Angel Radio, filling their heads with a demented chorus of prayers screams and curses.  
For all of them knew only the strongest would live to see the sunrise.

She clenched her eyes shut, blocking out the sight of her potential deathbed. Panic had her in his clutches, paralysing her ability to think. Her numb fingers grasped the Winchesters' letters, barely able to keep them from the tug of the wind, which whispered  
its displeasure in her ears. The angels quietened as land drew closer - some voices already cut off by death.

In a few moments, that could be her.

The impact ripped her from the sanctuary from her thoughts. The ground that caught her shattered beneath her like one of those delicate porcelain vases humans liked to put on display. Then for a single, blissful moment, she felt nothing - right before  
agony set fire to every nerve.

When the darkness finally came, she embraced it.

* * *

 _Three days later..._

"Mr Edward Dougherty?"

Dean Winchester didn't even bother to look up. He didn't need to; he knew it was just one of the hundreds of nurses swarming this crappy hospital. Like the last three bitches he kicked out of the ward, she was probably armed with a nice, long speech to  
convince him to let his little brother go. He snorted softly. There was no way in hell he'd simply stand back and watch Sam die - not without a fight.

Sam may be beyond medical help, but he sure as hell wasn't beyond _supernatural_ help. And he had just summoned a bunch of desperate celestial beings with a simple prayer.

The nurse sighed, bringing him back down to Earth. "Mr Dougherty, a little girl was just brought in and we found letters addressed to you and your brother on her -"

"What letters?" He demanded sharply, gaze snapping up to meet hers. When she held them out, he practically snatched them from her outstretched hands.

 _Edward Dougherty_

 _Citrus General Hospital_

 _Ward 108_

This was printed in beautiful, thin letters - the same, achingly familiar ones that littered page after page of his father's journal. His _dead_ father's journal. His eyes narrowed.

"Where did you say the girl was found again?"

* * *

She did not expect to wake ever again. But when she actually did, there was no time to celebrate. _The_ Dean Winchester was seated by her side, cool as a cucumber - casually twirling her Angel Blade as he would a pencil.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart."

She groaned inwardly. Was there ever going to be an end to the immediate threats to her life?

"Are you an angel?"

She nodded slowly; gaze fixed on the gleaming blade that could potentially end her life.

"Name?"

She swallowed, hard. "Anessa."

The next thing she knew, he had her own weapon pressed threateningly to her throat.

"So, _Anessa_ ," he flashed her a chilling smile, "where'd you get the letters?"

Oh, crap. She did not have a good answer for that yet. She glanced at the infamous hunter anxiously, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she tried to come up with one. But time was not on her side; she could feel Dean's patience with her wearing  
thin.

Screw it. The truth will have to do.

"It's from your parents," she answered carefully. "They sent me."

Dean's eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. "John and Mary Winchester sent you?"

She nodded again, sending a quick prayer up to her Father. _Please don't let Dean Winchester be the end of me._

"Why the hell would they send _you_?"

"I was in charge of their heaven," she shrugged, trying not to look as scared as she felt. "And they had...leverage."

"What kind of leverage?"

"I broke one of Heaven's rules and they somehow found out about it."

Dean was silent for a full, terrifying minute. His intense, emerald eyes bored into hers, seeking any sign of deceit. Once it ended, he dumped the letters onto her lap.

"Open them," he demanded, tone leaving no room for debate.

With trembling fingers, she obeyed him, fully aware that he was literally one stroke away from ending her. Thankfully, the envelopes were opened with no incidence, revealing the pristine papers that held John and Mary Winchester's last words to their  
children.

Satisfied at last, the hunter let the Angel Blade fall away from her exposed neck, gathering the letters on her lap wordlessly. She finally allowed herself to relax, shoulders slumping as relief washed over her. With a little luck, she _might_ actually  
live to see tomorrow. Now, there was just one thing left to do.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright, wincing at the protest of her freshly-healed muscles. Running her hands up and down her limbs, she searched for any remaining injuries, sighing with relief when she found none. Her wings however, were another story.  
The fall had reduced them to nothing but a mass of blood, bone and feathers. Flying was definitely out of the question for the next two months if she was lucky. Well, according to the whispers on Angel Radio, she was. Apparently, most of the angels  
had either lost their wings or their lives.

"So," the sound of Dean Winchester's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Can you heal?"

She never had the chance to answer.

"Dean Winchester," a new voice drawled, drawing her attention to the figure at the door.

It was one of her older sisters; crammed into the body of a young nurse. Her vessel's lips curled into a cold imitation of a smile as her wings flared out behind her menacingly. The angel strolled into the ward, her grip on her Angel Blade tightening  
as she approached.

"I've been looking for you."


End file.
